


While It Snowed

by LetThereBeDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bad Puns, Breaking Up & Making Up, Christmas, Destiel Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Holidays, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, M/M, Puns & Word Play, References to Marvel, Snow, Supportive Charlie, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetThereBeDestiel/pseuds/LetThereBeDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s… beautiful,” Charlie whispered and Dean nodded, gulping. He looked at Charlie, catching her glancing toward the back of the room. Dean’s eyes locked on Cas’ figure that was now fiddling with the pencil between his fingers. He looked completely concentrated on his doing, and Dean figured he could allow a longer look. His eyes rested on Cas’ bedhead hair he’d never comb, his tired eyes under furrowed brows and his long, jaded-looking limbs. He looked beautiful.<br/>Dean let out a heavy sigh, the forgotten paper in his hand dropping onto the table beside him.<br/>How he wished things would turn out differently.<br/>~<br/>When Cas' teacher declares the class is going to play Secret Santa for the week, Cas realizes it might be his last chance of getting back together with ex-boyfriend, and decides to show Dean just how much he means to him.<br/><br/>~<br/>A destiel Christmas fic (◕‿◕✿)  Merry Christmas, guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While It Snowed

**Author's Note:**

> FOR MY DEER DEER FRIEND [ASHLEY ](http://skittlekitty123.deviantart.com/)

“Look at him.”

In the despaired silence, Charlie’s head rose and her eyes followed Cas’ stare across the empty stadium until they met her brother’s glance. He was tall, freckles painting his face, and his eyes - barely green from that distance - resting on Cas. They hovered there for a moment, then moved away, and the lean figure turned around. Cas’ stare dropped to the benches in front of him.

“He hates me.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Charlie hurried to argue. On her other side, Balthazar was sitting silently with his cigarette tucked between his fingers. She glared at him.

“He doesn’t hate you,” he turned to Cas indifferently, letting the thin smoke swirl out his mouth as he spoke. His British accent took over his words, its sound neat and clear. “He’s just mad.”

“Not helping,” Charlie hissed, kicking his shin, and he let out an _ouch!_

Cas leaned his elbows on the edges of his knees, burying his face in his hands.

“Even if he doesn’t – he doesn’t need to. I hate myself.”

“Hey, stop that,” Charlie ordered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s a poor excuse,” Cas replied glumly. He didn’t understand why she was so anxious to make him feel better – why she was even speaking to him. He broke her brother’s heart.

“That girl said herself that she was the one sticking her tongue inside your throat. You were just kinda… there,” Charlie shrugged, her face sour. She didn’t say it, but she knew Cas was just as responsible for this cheating as Hannah was.

“Look, he’s hurt. You just gotta show him you care.”

Cas let out a sigh, his head lifting to look for Dean’s figure walking out of the stadium, but Dean was already gone.

Charlie was raising her eyebrows at him, and behind her, Balthazar nodded toward the open space and tapped the cigarette with his finger to clean it from the burnt ash. The bell rang and they stood up simultaneously, Charlie brushing off the dust that stuck to her pants.

“Easier said than done,” Cas muttered as he led the way to class.

They walked out of the stadium, passing through abandoned parts of the school on their way to class.

The students in the hallways didn’t throw another glance at them as they made their way to the top floor. It was the one privilege of breaking up with Dean – the teens passing by them in the halls would no longer shove Dean down the stairs or call Cas names; there was no longer a trace of the young cruelty that went unnoticed by the teachers. Now, they were simply ignored.

Of course, he’d said he’s sorry a thousand times already, but Dean didn’t want to listen – and Cas knew he was right not to take him back. There was no fixing what he’s done.

The teacher was already inside when they entered the classroom and they sat down silently.

“Since Christmas is coming up, I thought we could arrange a little game before leaving for winter break,” she added after announcing the issues of the day.

“So in the next five days, we’re going to play Secret Santa!” The teacher smiled at them, trying to squeeze a few excited looks out of her tough crowd. The students were deadpan, though, some huffing exasperatedly, some leaning their heads on their palms with boredom. There was no match for her excitement within them.

“Anyway,” she cleared her throat and went on. “I’ve brought notes with each of your names on them. Everyone will pick a note and leave little gifts for the person they picked for a week.” There were a few additional objection murmurs from the class, and one hand rose.

“Ms. Oswald, don’t you think this game is, um, a bit childish for eleventh graders?” It was Dean’s hesitant voice that spoke from the front row, and Cas kept his eyes on him with interest.

“Dean,” the teacher replied, her foreign accent almost unnoticeable pronouncing this single syllable. “How long has it been since you’ve talked to someone in this class who isn’t your friend?”

There was a short, uncomfortable pause, but she went on before the silence became embarrassing. It was a known fact and sometimes a center of mocking that of all the cliques Dean belonged to the group of the quiet freaks, a group he’s isolated himself from ever since he found out about Cas and Hannah in the Winter Opening Party last week.

“Come on,” their teacher urged. “You lot could use some bonding. You don’t talk to each other at all.”

The students quietened, and she smiled to herself.

The teacher spun around to take out her notes, and Cas dropped his head on the table. He didn’t have the time nor the energy for games; his winter vacation was about to be horrible anyway. The empty seat beside him was a constant reminder of the person who’d sat there every day up until a couple of days ago, when he’d messed up again and told Dean it wasn’t that much of a big deal.

_Ah, so making out with some other chick means nothing to you?_

He could still hear the exact tone of Dean’s voice. It was hurt; accusing.

_That’s not what I-_

But he was gone. It seemed as though Cas just couldn’t say the right thing, like his mind took every apology and plea he wholeheartedly meant and twisted it into words that were ten times worse than his already stammering thoughts. He just _couldn’t_ say the right thing.

“Castiel?” he heard a voice from above his head. “Are you alright?”

He raised his head, looking at Ms. Oswald who held a small paper bag with papers folded to tiny squares in it.

“Yes,” he mumbled and plucked a piece of paper out of the bag, placing it on the table without looking at the name that was written on it. The teacher rested her palm on his head for a moment, then moved on to the next student.

As soon as Ms. Oswald was at Garth’s table, Charlie turned toward Cas from the table before his and clasped his hand excitedly.

“Who did you get?” She asked. Cas shrugged.

“I didn’t open it.” His eyes skimmed across the class, fluttering over a mixture of excited and disappointed faces. Balthazar was waving at him with a note that Cas was almost sure said _Bela_ and to their left, Garth was smiling at them with a paper that read _Bess._

“I got Dean.” A wide smile spread across Charlie’s face. “I know exactly what he likes,” she hummed happily. “This is gonna be easy. Come on, open yours.”

Cas’ eyebrows furrowed, his eyes locking on Charlie’s note. Then they skipped toward Dean, who was flipping his note between his long fingers, his shoulders slumped.

“Dean…” He murmured, his eyes on Charlie again. Then he asked decisively, “let’s switch.”

“What?” Charlie’s eyes dimmed. “But he’s my brother,” she protested. “It’ll be easy as pie. I know exactly what to get him…”

Cas looked at her, the ends of his lips curving down. “Charlie, this could be my only chance to fix this,” he said somberly. ”Show him I still care. How can I talk to him otherwise? He won’t listen.” They both shot a glance at Dean then, watching him ponder silently within his mind, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him.

Charlie picked Cas’ note from the table and shoved it into his palm.

“I’ll switch with you if you got someone good,” she declared, but knowing her tone, Cas knew he’d convinced her to help him. His lips curved up as he opened the folded note.

“It says Jo,” he told her, folding the note and balancing it between his fingers. He wasn’t sure whether Jo was in Charlie’s “someone good” list, but when he read the note her eyes lit.  

“Jo,” she repeated in a mumble, a sneaky smile spreading on her face. She snatched the note from Cas’ hand and turned back to her table, leaving him with Dean’s name resting grudgingly in front of him.

He had no idea what he was about to do, but – if you could call this an opportunity at all – he knew this was probably his last chance of getting his boyfriend back.

 

 ~-~-~ 

 

“Do you really think it’s good enough?” Charlie asked once again from the shotgun seat, examining the box in her hands. “I mean, it only cost eight dollars… that’s not much of a dedication, right?”

“Look, you’ve got five days. You can’t buy her a yacht each day, can you?” Dean glanced at her from behind the wheel. “Don’t worry. It’s chocolate filled with alcohol; what’s there not to like? She’ll love it.”

They pulled over at the parking lot, Charlie still frowning at her chocolates.

“Where should I put it?” She asked Dean while they got out of the car and crossed the parking lot toward the school gate, saying goodbye to Sam who hurried into the building.

“Should I put it on her desk?” She looked at Dean, her green eyes probing his face questioningly. “Where are you leaving your gift for Crowley?”

“I guess I’ll just leave it on his table,” Dean shrugged and held the gate open for her to pass through. Charlie bit her lip, remaining quiet as they walked up the stairs. A couple of times Dean had to grab her arm and pull her out of the way of students and teachers, while she walked daydreaming and oblivious to her surroundings as her usual way.

“Oh, look!” She whispered suddenly when they reached the top floor and clutched Dean’s arm, hiding herself behind his torso. “There’s Meg.”

“What about her?” Dean asked and continued advancing toward their class. They’ve arrived early, and there was hardly anyone in the hall apart from the both of them and the pale brunette girl who stood by a row of lockers and opened the lock of hers.

“She’s Jo’s locker-partner, isn’t she?” Charlie whispered at him and shoved the packet of chocolates into his hands. “Ask her to put them in her locker.”

She pushed Dean forward gently, still hiding behind him. He was about to protest but before he could, Meg noticed him and waved, seemingly figuring he’d come to talk to her since no one else was around.

“Hey,” Dean said reluctantly, not-so-willing for the chat. She was a pretty girl, confident and funny… and Cas’ ex-girlfriend. Dean has always felt slightly intimidated by her, and now that he and Cas broke up, he felt even more defeated talking to Meg for some reason.

“You share a locker with Jo, right?” He asked, struggling not to mumble.

“Yeah,” she answered, her tone friendly. Dean took a small step forward like a reluctant animal, still hesitant.

“I hear your class has a Secret Santa thing going on,” she said and her eyes slipped down toward the box in Dean’s hands.

“Yeah,” he answered, shrugging lightly.

“So, are you Jo’s…”

“No, no, I just…” He looked around for his sister, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Can you, um, give this to her?” He asked Meg and handed her the chocolates, pointing his thumb in the general direction of his class. “I gotta go.”

“Sure,” she answered, and after a muted ‘thanks’ Dean disappeared into the dull crowed of students that was gathering up in the hall as the minutes passed.

“Where have you been?” He hissed at Charlie when he entered the class. She was sitting in his chair at the front of the class, her ankles resting on a table.

She shrugged, her legs sliding to the floor, and grabbed her backpack.

“I couldn’t let her see me,” she excused and walked over to her seat. “She could’ve told Jo.”

Dean wasn’t sure what was so bad about that, but he wordlessly let his bag drop on his table, avoiding looking in his sister’s direction. Cas was sitting right behind her, writing silently in his notebook, and Dean was ridiculously aware of his presence. He couldn’t look at Cas without a lump building in his throat, his heart racing-

He spotted a white page folded in half resting on his table and moved his bag to grab it.

“Hey, you forgot this,” he said to Charlie and handed her the page, looking at the dully gray table that was between them, but Charlie wrinkled her nose.

“I didn’t even open my bag, dumbass,” she said and peeked at the page, standing up. Dean took another glance at it and his forehead creased. At the top left corner of the page, his name was written in capital letters.

“It’s for you,” Charlie pointed out and stood beside him. “Maybe it’s your gift.”

Dean opened the folded paper, his lips parting with surprise. Inside, drawn in two colors of pen, green eyes stared back at his. They could easily be mistaken to be his sister’s if not the tiny freckles scattered underneath them.

“That’s… beautiful,” Charlie whispered and Dean nodded, gulping. His head rose and his eyes scanned the room, searching for the person who left the drawing on his table, but the class was full of students by now and none of them looked at him. He looked back at Charlie, catching her glancing toward the back of the room. Dean’s eyes locked on Cas’ figure that was now fiddling with the pencil between his fingers. He looked completely concentrated on his doing, and Dean figured he could allow a longer look. His eyes rested on Cas’ bedhead hair he’d never comb, his tired eyes under furrowed brows and his long, jaded-looking limbs. He looked beautiful.

Dean let out a heavy sigh, the forgotten paper in his hand dropping onto the table beside him.

How he wished things would turn out differently.

 

~-~-~

 

“I didn’t know you could draw like that,” Charlie commented during lunch, taking a bite of her fries.

“I don’t,” Cas mumbled above his disposable cup of coffee, moving uncomfortably in his seat. They were sitting at the cafeteria today, a decision that would always make Cas somewhat uneasy, considering that the frequency he’d get beaten up usually depended on how often the bullies saw him. It could happen right here, right now, you could never know.

“That’s the problem,” he went on with a mutter. “Do you know how many hours I’ve been sitting on it?” His fingers rubbed wearily at his forehead as he recalled yesterday afternoon, evening and late night in which he sat by his desk hour after hour looking at an old picture of Dean hugging him sluggishly and trying to capture the look in his eyes. It was exhausting.

“Well,” Charlie pursed her lips saucily. “You’ve only had since yesterday, so I’m guessing less than twenty-four.”

Cas sighed and shoved his bag onto the floor, clearing the seat for Balthazar who dropped onto the chair beside him.

“He loved your drawing,” Charlie shrugged nonchalantly. “You have a good plan. Just wait ‘till you see it through.” She gave him a meaningful look, referring to his five-days-plan he’d told her yesterday night over the phone.

“Just be yourself,” Balthazar added. “If it’s gone wrong and looks like shit, that’s even better. Girlfriends love that.”

Cas rolled his eyes and Charlie snorted. Then, in a quieter voice, Cas spoke.

“Has he told you anything?”

Charlie shrugged, her lips crooking, and leaned her elbows on the table. “You’re not gonna make that mistake again, are you?” she asked, her tone seemingly casual, checking the soil before sowing the seeds.

“Of course not,” Cas answered thoughtlessly, and she went on, throwing another meaningful look at him.

“He needs to know that.”

Cas nodded solemnly, pondering. He pushed away his plate, which was still full of cold fries that Balthazar started nipping off it.

He took a sip of his coffee, planning the next step.

His next gift for Dean was a simple printed page. It came out of the printer slowly, black ink turning colorful as it dyed the picture that was placed beside the text.

The logo at the top left of the page read: _WIKIPEDIA,_ _THE FREE ENCYCLOPEDIA._

The title at the top was written in bigger letters: _Valentine’s Day._

He thought he knew how Dean would react. He’d open the folded page with his forehead creased, wondering why someone wanted to give it to him. Then he’d read the content of the paper and his lips would pucker. He’d say, _I didn’t know that,_ or, _that’s interesting._ Then he’d look around the class to search for the person who put the page on his table, like he did yesterday…

Cas picked the paper out of the printer, careful not to accidentally crumple it.

It wasn’t completely his fault, now that he was thinking about it…

He didn’t mean for anything to happen.

They’d arrived in Dean’s car, Charlie and Balthazar tagging along in the back seat although they didn’t have a date. The party was at Amara’s place – a big, dark house just outside town.

The place was full of people and although at first he was hesitant to leave Dean’s side, after his fourth or fifth beer they somehow parted and he went up the stairs to look for the bathroom. By the time he got out, his walking was wobbly and he made his way through the teens and not-anymore-teens slowly, looking for Dean. Before he could find him, though-

Cas furrowed his eyebrows, trying to loosen the clutch on the printed page in his hand. This part was a bit fuzzy.

Before he could find Dean, he saw a brunette girl smiling at him from across the room. She approached him and at first he thought she was Meg, but as she stepped closer he could see it was another girl in his class, someone he’d hardly spoken to before.

Cas’ head spun and he reached out his arm for a wall or a furniture, searching support. The girl – Hannah – caught his hand and supported his weight to the nearest sofa. She said something, but Cas didn’t focus on her words. He knew he was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn’t care less with his head spinning like a race car in a stadium.

He leaned his head back, the girl still sitting by his side, studying his face. It took Cas’ head and stomach a few minutes to soothe and Hannah kept talking, keeping her eyes on him throughout her soft babbling. Eventually, Cas’ head lifted back up. His sluggish eyes rambled across the room, preparing to stand up and make his way back downstairs through the people, but Hannah’s fingers wrapped swiftly around his tie.

He froze, turning to look at her.

“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time,” she murmured, leaning closer to his face. Cas stared at her, fixed in his place. Slowly, her delicate hand sneaked to rest against his cheek and she leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t resist and her kiss deepened, lips locking in with his. His fingers found their way up her back, the nape of her neck, the roots of her hairs-

For one moment, his eyes fluttered open. And then his lips tore off the pair he was kissing and he shifted, moving away from Hannah.

Dean was standing ten feet away from them, staring into his eyes.

He didn’t do anything; that was the thing that made Cas feel most guilty later on. He didn’t lash out, didn’t yell or make a scene. He didn’t move; just stared at Cas wide-eyed, his lips parting, complete shock spread on his face. Cas’ mind was too hazy for him to know for sure, and later on he convinced himself that he merely imagined the moist glint in Dean’s eyes.

Dean held his look for no longer than a few long seconds; then he turned around, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and silently left the room. Without taking another look at Hannah, Cas rushed after him.

Dean’s printed paper was folded neatly now, resting between Cas’ fingers and his thumb. It has only now occurred to him that by being so kind to him, Charlie may have been trying to make up for the fifteen minutes of screaming at him for hurting her brother the day after that stupid party.

 

~-~-~

 

“Today we’ll be doing something a bit different,” Ms. Oswald announced on the beginning of sixth period. She waited a minute for everyone to sit down, and then went on.

“I’m going to split you into pairs and then explain what we’re going to do.” She cleared her throat and started reading names off a list written on a piece of paper she was holding. Dean sank in his seat, praying not to be paired with one of the range of pupils who hated him. When the teacher read the name he was paired with, though, he regretted his wish; he’d work with anyone except for this one.

“Dean will work with Castiel,” Ms. Oswald called, moving straight on, but the class quietened and stared at the two of them, expecting drama. Dean yanked his bag from the floor, his lips pursed uncomfortably, and walked his silent way to the back of the class.

Cas only briefly looked up when Dean dropped heavily onto the seat beside him, mumbling something and sinking his eyes back into his notebook.

“Each pair will write a poem about the U.S. presidents,” the teacher opened. The students gaped at her, confused.

“Each line of the poem needs to describe a different president. You can use characteristics, facial features, hobbies, dressing style…” She went on, but Dean stopped listening.

“Is- is that what you got?” He asked quietly, pointing at a book placed in a faraway corner of Cas’ table.

Cas looked up, surprised, then glanced at the book.

“Yes,” he murmured, turning it over so Dean could see the title. It read _The Silver Lining Playbook._ It was clearly used but still in a good state, and Dean nodded.

“What did you get?” Cas asked, a bit less hesitant now, glancing at Dean’s face. Dean drew a poster out of his bag, spreading it open so that Cas could see the closed-up face of Hugh Jackman smirking in a suit.

“You love that guy,” Cas blurted, his face the usual deadpan, and Dean’s lips flashed a smile.

“I do,” he said, but his heart twitched and his smile faded.

Before any of them could say furthermore Ms. Oswald released the teams to work on their own and the conversation faded. Dean plucked his phone out of his pocket, entering Wikipedia’s homepage to dig up some information about the presidents. He cleared his throat, looking up Roosevelt, and Cas’ eyes dropped to his notebook again. They didn’t talk, but after a few minutes Dean perceived a note being shoved into the corner of his eyesight. He picked it up, his lips pressing together into a thin line, and opened the folded piece of paper.

_I’m sorry._

“What happened, did you swallow your tongue?” Dean mumbled, letting the note drop onto the table. He knew that Cas had it easier with writing than talking and he was just being mean, but he couldn’t help the tightness in his throat when he thought of that party. Cas drew the note back, scribbling swiftly and pushing it back toward Dean.

_I’ve already apologized thrice. Then it occurred to me that you may be waiting for a written justification._

“I don’t think we have anything to say to each other…” His voice faded gradually as Cas started writing on a new page, not stopping while Dean tried to see his sentence through.

Cas wrote rapidly, taking long breaks in between his sentences to consider his words.

_I know you don’t trust me right now, and you’re right not to, but Dean, I’ve learned my lesson. I only realized what I’ve had after I lost it._

Dean pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

“Cas,” he said quietly, his eyes opening, and Cas looked up at him.

“You’ll find someone else,” he continued, looking into Cas’ eyes. “Someone who’ll love you and be able to trust you without looking behind their shoulder all the time, like I’d inevitably do if I said yes to you now.”

Cas looked at him, his jaw tense, as if he were trying not to let his emotions slip out of his eyes. He only spoke after a long minute, swiftly and mutedly, his eyes dampening as he continued to stare at Dean.

“Just tell me you’ll consider it one more time if I promise to never hurt you again.”

Dean’s expression mirrored Cas’, jaw tense and eyebrows pulled down with defeat. It took a long moment, but eventually he nodded once.

Cas’ jaw unclenched and he looked down at his notebook.

“We should get working,” he mumbled and Dean nodded, trying to think of a way they could possibly turn the presidents into a thirty-minutes-made poem, but he was lost. After a moment, though, Cas asked for his phone and browsed for information for a while. A few minutes later, he handed Dean his notebook. Dean read the short couple of lines, nodding absently.

 _James Monroe had spawned three infants, Lincoln had a hat,_ it read. _William Henry Harrison died when he was sixty-eight._

“That’s all I’ve got,” Cas shrugged.

“Not bad,” Dean encouraged, taking his phone back and scanning Wikipedia pages for a while. He scribbled a few more words in Cas’ notebook, then shoved it back to the other side of the table.

_Washington was at the top, Obama forty-fourth; Tyler - tenth, and Taylor twelfth. Eleven – James K. Polk._

Cas nodded approvingly, grabbing his pen when he finished reading and adding words of his own. Dean watched him earnestly, pondering.

 

~-~-~

 

“You ready to go home?” Dean asked as they left class. Charlie glanced at him hesitantly.

“I- eh, need to put some stuff in the locker first,” she said and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the lockers at the side of the corridor. “You haven’t opened it today, have you?”

“No,” Dean confirmed bemusedly, following her to their shared locker. She entered the code and opened it, opening her bag and taking a couple of textbooks out of it.

“What’s that?” She asked conversationally as she closed the zipper of her bag, gesturing with her head at a plastic box that lay at the front of the cell.

“Isn’t it yours?” Dean asked, confused. He didn’t remember the box being there yesterday.

Charlie shook her head. “It’s probably your present. Open it.”

“How do you know it’s not yours?” Dean asked suspiciously, but she raised her arm and waved it in his face, showing off a new rubber bracelet with the writing _Twenty One Pilots_ on it. Dean grabbed the box, opening it. Inside were a few waffles put atop one another, shaping into a three-dimensional A’, and beside it at the bottom of the box was a note: _The Weiffel Tower._

“That’s kinda cute,” Charlie said, peeking at the insides of the box from behind Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing.

“How did it get there?” He asked, closing the box and shoving it into his bag. Charlie shrugged, shoving her textbooks inside the locker and locking it.

“So that means you know who’s been giving me the presents, don’t you?” Dean called, rushing after her as she walked toward the stairs.

“I cannot confirm or deny your statement,” she said, a small smirk sneaking onto her lips.

“Who is it?” He asked urgently, trying to match her rapid pace down the stairs.

“Is it you? Garth?” He followed her out the door. “Is it Crowley?”

“Not tellin’,” she smirked at him. “Where’s Sam?”

They entered the parking lot, standing beside the Impala. Dean looked around, searching for their little brother. On days they’d all finish at the same hour Sam would usually be by their car first. Today, though, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Call him,” Charlie offered, leaning against the side of the Impala. Dean took out his phone, browsing through his contacts list. He’s hardly called anyone lately and he had to scroll a bit, but instead of tracking Sam’s name, another name kept appearing on his screen.

_Cas, Two missed calls December 5 th. _

There was a _Mom, December 4 th _and another _Mom_ at the end of November. He scrolled further, reaching a specific _Cas_ the middle of October; he remembered that call.

He was sealed in his room when he made it, pacing around anxiously while he waited for Cas to pick up. It was almost midnight, but Cas was more of a night person and Dean knew he wouldn’t mind him calling.

Cas picked up the phone on the fourth ring, answering a husky “hello?”

“Hey, can I…” Dean hesitated, embarrassed. Cas waited patiently, and Dean went on.

“Can I maybe crash at your place tonight?” There was a short pause before Dean added, “My parents are having a fight. Sam is at some sleepover and Charlie took off as soon as they started and I’m- I’m kinda stuck here.”

“Sure,” Cas said. “Sure. Let me just tell my mother.”

“’K,” Dean answered weakly and Cas’ voice disappeared.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, standing up promptly when the sound of his footsteps no longer bleared the yelling downstairs. He paced around the room, his brief stare scanning the piles of dirty clothes on the floor and the _Marvel Comics_ posters on the walls. On his nightstand were a lamp, two empty mugs of old coffee and a framed picture of him with Sam and Charlie at the beach. His other pictures were taped to his closet – him and his parents at Disneyland before they adopted Charlie and Sam was born; him and Sam playing baseball with their uncle Bobby a couple of years ago; him and Cas sitting by the tree-

“Can you drive here?” Cas’ voice cut through his thought.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed, turning away from the photos.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, then,” Cas said, a note of reassurance in his voice, and they hung up.

The only thing left now was to sneak out of the house.

The ride wasn’t long, but Dean was hardly in the mental state to drive. He progressed slowly through the dark road, doing his best to stall and stay within the silent walls of loneliness for just a bit longer; he didn’t feel like being around anyone human at the moment.

His arrival wasn’t as awkward as he anticipated since Cas’ mother was already asleep when he knocked on their door, and Cas grabbed his hand and led him to his room.

They lied sprawled on the bed, Dean explaining about the fight – the absences of his father and the short temper of his mother – and Cas lied quietly beside him, listening and inserting a few words here and there.

“The thing that scares me the most,” Dean said eventually, his eyes examining the ceiling. His voice was muted, and Cas rose on his elbows to look at him.

“’S that it might happen to me one day,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper.

“It won’t,” Cas said decisively. “Not if you won’t let it.”

Dean looked at him, studying his serious features.

“Let’s promise to never give up on each other,” Dean whispered, still looking at Cas as he raised his hand.

“Deal,” Cas said, his eyes staring deadpan into Dean’s as they shook hands.

“Hey, buttface, what’s going on?” Charlie pulled him out of his daydream, poking at his shoulder.

“N’thing,” he mumbled, looking away.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” She asked, her stare piercing as she looked at him. He put his phone back in his pocket reluctantly, forgetting about wanting to call his brother.

“What do you think I should do?”

Charlie balanced herself on her two feet again, spinning toward him on her heels and ducking her head to use the shade of Dean’s head as a protection for her eyes from the sun.

“Well, do you want to know what I tell him, what I’ve already told you, what I think or the truth?” She asked, blinking at him and shading her eyes with the palm of her hand.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. “Is that a trick question?”

From the corner of his eye he spotted Sam at the most faraway corner of the parking lot, talking to a blonde girl around his age by a crosswalk.

“Look, you know how mad I got after,” Charlie shrugged, and Dean’s mind flashed an unpleasant memory of his sister throwing some mouthful insults at his ex-boyfriend.

“But you’re my brother and he’s my best friend. I just want you two morons to be happy, and what makes you happy is being with each other. But,” she emphasized, raising her eyebrows. “You’re the one who’s been hurt. And if you don’t feel like you can trust him again-“ her shoulders rose again. “Nothing you can do about it.”

Dean looked away, pretending to be pondering at her words. He didn’t pay them much thought, though; he was in the process of making his decision.

 “There’s Sam,” he changed the subject then, gesturing with his head toward his brother who was now walking in their direction.

He was already close to making his decision, and for that moment, he didn’t want anyone asking what it was.

 

~-~-~

 

“What’s for you, eh?” Asked the barista, a deadpan-looking yet pleasant young woman with ginger hair and a piercing look.

“One latte,” Cas answered decisively, plucking his wallet out of his bag.

“Which size?” The lady asked, being answered a more hesitant “large”.

Cas glanced at the wall clock that hung behind her. It was quarter to eight and although the coffee shop was a three-minute walk from school, he was worried Dean would get to class before he managed to. Of course, it was the last day of Secret Santa and the givers of the presents were supposed to reveal their identities today; Dean would see Cas’ name written on the disposable cup next to his order, but the last thing Cas wanted to do was be there while Dean found out. He slid his phone out of his pocket and texted Charlie to try and keep her brother out of their classroom for the next ten minutes.

“Your name?” The barista asked, her narrowed eyes studying his face.

“Cas,” he replied instinctively, glancing at her name tag; it read _Amy._

Her eyebrows rose slightly into a doubtful look. “Your name’s Pass?”

Cas spelled his name out loud, a small grin spreading on his face when he heard her lapse. His name arousing confusion in strangers was a familiar scenario, but he’s never heard a mistake quite as ridiculous as this one. She nodded, grabbing a paper cup and scribbling the three letters on it. She took it to the back counter then, placing it on the plastic net of the coffee machine and watching it fill with hot liquid.

“There you go,” she said a couple of minutes later, placing the cup before Cas on the counter and taking his money. He walked to the sugar stand at the side of the shop, pouring into the cup the exact amount of sugar Dean liked in his coffee. Then he opened his bag, searching for a pen, tape and a piece of paper, and attached a note to Dean’s cup.

_Merry Christmas, Dean. I hope you celebrate it with someone special._

He left the coffee shop sullen, pacing swiftly across the wide sidewalk. When he entered the classroom Dean wasn’t there, and Cas put the cup on his table and turned toward the back of the class to take his seat.

He ducked his head as if he were trying to disappear. Dean entered the class right after the teacher, luckily not being able to talk to Cas when he saw the coffee. He settled for a glance toward the back of the class, but Cas kept his eyes in his notebook insistently.

The day passed minute by minute, and Cas’ worry of Dean’s reaction turned into more of a curious wonder. At the end of the day, he found himself walking to the bus station behind the school he’d rarely use, hoping to find Dean there since he’s heard from Charlie she was taking Sam in the car to shop for Christmas presents.

The air was icy and the sky was pouring light snow that didn’t catch but Cas assumed would cover the town quickly enough. He yanked the zipper of his coat up, adjusted his hat and shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned right toward the station. The place was deserted, except for one hunched figure sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, his feet before him on the side of the road. He rose to his feet when he saw Cas, though, walking to stand beneath the roof of the station, safe from the biting snow. Cas stood a few feet away from him, in the other corner of the station.

“When is the bus supposed to arrive?” He forced out, looking at the road.

“Ten minutes,” Dean answered matter-of-factly. He didn’t say anything as Cas peeked at him from the corner of his eye; just looked straight forward at the road slowly being covered with snow or checked his phone, allowing Cas to notice the dull brown stains on the shirt he wore under his coat.

“I see you got the coffee,” Cas commented eventually, deliberately looking at the area of disaster on his shirt as Dean looked up.

“It was good, until Lilith bumped into me accidentally,” Dean said, looking at the ground. Cas’ eyebrows furrowed, his frown upset. The kid that’d pick on him the most during the time he dated Dean happened to be Metatron; for Dean – it was Lilith. The chances she bumped into Dean _accidentally_ while he was holding his coffee seemed like a long shot to Cas, and it bothered him that these things still happened to Dean even after they broke up.

“You really shouldn’t’ve gone through so much trouble for me,” Dean said quietly, cutting off Cas’ thoughts.

“It was my job,” Cas pointed out. His words made him recall that Dean wasn’t at all the person who was originally written in his note. He knew that there was no way of them getting back together now, but he didn’t regret making all those things for Dean. He was just glad he could make him smile again.

“You’ve gone through quite a lot of trouble, though,” Dean noted. Cas knew what he meant – most people just bought a pack of gum or a coke from the cafeteria, leaving on it a _have a good day_ note; the most exciting present he himself got was the book he got the third day, the one Dean has asked about – but he spent his whole week either planning or creating his gifts for Dean.

Mostly planning, actually, and seemed like Dean didn’t get the message he’d tried to pass. He felt an urge to change the subject.

“So what are you planning to do during the holidays?” He asked, trying not to sound too stilted. It was the first afternoon of winter break, and it suddenly dawned on him that he wouldn’t see Dean at all in the next few weeks.

“Just hang out with my family, I guess,” Dean answered, glancing briefly toward him. “You?”

“Try to avoid my mother when she asks about you,” Cas said solemnly, and Dean nodded in that serious expression he’d use when he played along with Cas’ jokes. A moment later, though, a faint smile sneaked onto his lips.

“That’d be a hard one to pull off,” he said, knowing that Mrs. Shurley was a nosy parker.

Cas watched the snowflakes pile up lightly on the ground and melt before they could cover the road in white. The bus still had a few minutes to come, and he hoped the snow wouldn’t catch before they were home.

He wasn’t sure how to reply, and it was a moment before Dean spoke again.

“You remember that tree?” He asked, his small smile still apparent on his face, and gestured at a tall tree that stood within the grove on the other side of the road.

“Of course,” Cas said, and something stung in his chest. “Our first kiss.”

Dean let out a soft snort. “You took my hand and ran toward the tree.”

“I thought I saw a squirrel,” Cas said defensively, his lips shaping into a grumpy pout, and Dean laughed at his expression.

“It was just a branch.”

“I said I felt like an idiot,” Cas continued, his expression somber now. His eyes dropped to the ground sheepishly. “But you said it was cute. And then you kissed me.”

They were looking different directions now, their smiles fading. It was their memory that Cas was fond of the most, and now…

Now-

He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a shallow breath, keeping his expression carefully composed; Dean wasn’t supposed to see him like that anymore.

Dean looked at him hesitantly. When Cas opened his eyes he turned to look at the road, his eyes searching for the bus. He looked so graceful with his coat wrapping his lean figure against the white sky, his wide blue eyes almost childlike.

Those eyes were so wistful lately, so unhappy…

Dean’s eyes dropped to the ground, his lips pursing. He’s made up his mind; he was not going to change it because Cas looked better in the snow. Or because of the tree. Or the note. Or the-

“I got your message,” he blurted. Cas turned to look at him, his eyebrows lifting lightly like they always did when he was attentive and slightly confused.

“What?”

Dean cleared his throat lightly and turned halfway toward Cas.

“I wasn’t really sure until yesterday, but, I mean, the Weiffel Tower is just your kind of humor,” he shrugged sheepishly. “And knowing you, once I realized it’s you, I figured that those oddly chosen items might mean something. Then I thought about it; the first one was my eyes, which must’ve meant _eye,_ or _I._ the second one was a Wikipedia page talking about love. Then there was Hugh, an A, and a coffee. I got your message,” he concluded, repeating the order in his head.

_I, love, Hugh, a, latte._

Of course he didn’t plan on running into Cas afterwards, talking to him… changing his mind. He wasn’t even going to mention he’d figured the whole thing out, but-

“It was a stupid idea,” Cas mumbled. “I know. I was quite short on time, though, and I couldn’t think of something else…”

“It was a very cute try,” Dean assured him, smiling softly at his foot that moved in little circles on the ground.

“Dean…” Cas started and Dean looked up. “Can we at least be friends?”

Dean looked at him tenderly. “Yes, we can, but…” He hesitated, and Cas’ lips pulled downwards. Before he could say the _I get it if you don’t want to_ that was obvious on his face, Dean continued reluctantly.

“But, I mean…” He pursed his lips and then unclenched them. “I kinda miss the way you kiss me.”

Cas looked at him wide-eyed as Dean shrugged self-consciously.

“You mean…” Cas let out mutely, and Dean nodded. Cas moved, pacing just a couple of swift steps until his body crashed against Dean’s and he wrapped his arms around him. Dean’s hands rose instinctively to rest against Cas’ back and he couldn’t help a grin. He couldn’t compare that hug to anything else, but all he knew was it felt good.

He wasn’t scared of his decision anymore.

 “You’re still an idiot, though,” he said, still smiling.

“I know,” Cas said and loosened his embrace so that he was able to look at Dean. His lips were only slightly curved up but his face beamed as he leaned in to press his lips onto Dean’s.

 

~-~-~ 

 

“Dinner is ready in an hour,” Dean announced as he entered the back yard and walked to where Cas was sitting, lying down next to him. They were sitting on a thin blanket which didn’t help diminishing the cold, and Cas pressed against him, trying to warm up.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” he said, leaning his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “We never do anything special at home. My mother hates this time of the year.”

“How could you hate Christmas?” Dean wondered, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist.

“I don’t know,” Cas answered gravely. “Sometimes I think she’s a Spartan,” he said and Dean let out a laugh.

“So meanwhile, we’re… Staring into space,” Cas suggested after a few minutes.

“We’re looking at the stars,” Dean protested his dry tone.

“They’re beautiful,” Cas said, his tone playfully sarcastic now.

“Hey, you said _celebrate it with someone special,_ not _make sure he’s entertained,_ ” Dean reminded him, smacking Cas’ arm with his free hand.

“I said that three years ago!” Cas protested, but he couldn’t help his smile as Dean let out a “so what?”

“Every year is the same,” Cas complained jokingly and squirmed up to press his lips onto Dean’s.

“Maybe next year we’ll go ice-skating,” Cas suggested and Dean broke into a laugh that carried through the air.

“We’ll both suck at it,” he pointed out. The air was swirling around them, carrying the smells of cooking from inside the house. They must’ve been the only ones crazy enough to be outside in that cold; the other families would be eating now inside their warm houses that were wrapped in colorful lights and festive ornaments, lighting up the whole neighborhood with dim, soft light that didn’t get to the Winchesters’ backyard. Dean liked it better that way, though; in the small, dark square of grass outside his house, they were invisible.


End file.
